Walls of Jericho
by Jade Fervidus
Summary: April 1st, 2012. Wrestlemania XXVIII. CM Punk vs. Chris Jericho for the WWE Championship title. Punk finds out that there are two forms of the 'Walls of Jericho', and that he prefers one much more than the other. CM Punk/Chris Jericho. Slash. Smut.


**Title:** Walls of Jericho.  
**Author:** Jade Fervidus.  
**Pairing: **CM Punk/Chris Jericho.  
**Word Count:** 1,859.

**Warnings:** Profanity, slash and smut.

**Disclaimer:** No matter how much I dream, the WWE does not belong to me. Neither does CM Punk, Chris Jericho or Wrestlemania XXVIII.

* * *

**Walls of Jericho**

"This is fucking douchebaggery at its finest."

"Oh, stop being a baby. It's only a disqualification stipulation."

"Shut the fuck up. At least Laurinaitis doesn't have it out for you."

"He does not have it out for you. It's a storyline."

"I call bullshit."

"You're being an idiot."

"Whatever. You're my boyfriend – aren't you supposed to play with my hair and rub my back when I'm having a bitch?"

"I would be, but you're being a bitch, not having one."

"Okay, asshole, you are not making me feel better."

"Fine, I'll make you a deal. If you go out there and do your job, I'll bottom tonight, 'mmkay?"

"Oh, you are so on."

* * *

He's distracted from the moment he steps in the ring. The lights are almost blinding, the fans are screaming and his music is still blaring throughout the stadium. But Chris's piercing blue eyes are staring at him from across the ring; a half-smirk playing around those pretty lips. Punk has to turn and throw his shirt into the crowd just to keep his composure and not give the fans more of a show than they bargained for. A quick glance back shows him that those blue eyes have darkened considerably, letting Punk know that Chris was just as affected as him. The look invokes a side of him that only the older man was capable of finding – Punk licks his bottom lip slowly to let Chris know it's game on.

He knows it worked when they lock up for the first time during the match.

"You fucker," Chris hisses as he shoves the younger man into the turnbuckle.

From there, the match starts off with more grappling than necessary. Their matches have become a game, regardless of which of them is booked to win. The skin-on-skin contact had almost become foreplay, the takedowns no less than a promise of what was to come later on. Punk feels his arousal begin to make itself known, and hastily hits his lover with a forearm. The spell is broken and suddenly both men are much more focussed.

For a moment, anyway.

The sight of Chris on his knees between his legs is strangely erotic, causing Punk to back off almost immediately. He keeps his distance yet is unable to will away his desire. Chris sees this and leaps out of the corner, slapping his lover across the face. Punk is angry, feeling the arousal beginning to dissipate. Until it vanishes in an instant when Chris slaps him again, and again.

The blond knows that Punk hates being slapped unless it's in a specific way – a way that is definitely not appropriate for a PG show. The match is getting more believable now Phil is angry instead of aroused. Chris knows their heads are finally in the game, and decides to lay the kayfabe on a little thicker. "Hey, Punk – how's your father?"

Punk snaps.

Both men lose count of how many times blows are thrown, though Punk vaguely hears the referee counting. When Chris sees the younger man with the chair, he knows that line between kayfabe and reality is blurring dangerously. He can see the fire in Punk's eyes and he knows he needs to take control – he knows that they need to remain CM Punk and Chris Jericho, not Phil Brooks and Chris Irvine.

After Punk hits the floor, the match is a blur. Only pain breaks through the haze and Punk can say for sure that the 'Walls of Jericho' is one of the most painful manoeuvres his body has ever endured. Lionsaults, 'Codebreakers' and back breakers hurt, but the 'Walls' are the worst. The match ends with Punk standing on the turnbuckle above Jericho, an act of defiance for the pain Chris caused.

To an outside observer, it may look like that Punk was rubbing his victory in his lover's face. But from the twinkle in Punk's dark eyes, Chris knows it's a promise of what is to come.

* * *

"So, did I do my job?"

"You won, didn't you?"

"Made you my bitch is what I did."

"You keep thinking that."

"Oh, I will. You know what else I'm thinking of?"

"What?"

"I'm thinking of what I'm going to do to you when we get back to the hotel. I'm still deciding if I want to be nice, or if I want to punish you – those things you said about Chaleen weren't very nice… but I think I'm gonna make you moan my name so pretty, _Chrissy_."

"Call me that again. I dare you, motherfucker."

"_Chrissy_."

"That's it – you're _my_ bitch tonight."

"Oh, hell no, Irvine, you promised. We're gonna see who really is the best in the world at everything he does. You're my bitch tonight, baby."

"Don't call me that."

* * *

Punk has Chris pinned against the wall before the hotel door has completely swung shut. His lips are firmly pressed against the blond's as he tugs at the older man's hair, Chris's fingers digging into his ribs.

Still attached at the mouth, Punk guides them both towards the bed. Chris tumbles onto the younger man's chest, separating briefly to pull the brunette's shirt over his head. The blond moves his mouth to Punk's neck, sucking harshly as he rakes his nails over the younger man's stomach. They are both achingly hard and wanting as Chris rubs his crotch against Phil's, drawing pleased sighs from both men.

His hands slip further down, tugging down the fly of Phil's jeans. He pops the button open and hooks his thumbs around the fabric, shifting to pull the garments off his younger lover. Chris sits up slightly, eye level with Phil's erection. He watches as a drop of precum leaks from the slit, before darting his tongue out to catch it. Humming softly at the taste, Chris hears Phil huff as he continues to lick at the head leisurely.

* * *

"Stop teasing me, fucker."

"I thought you were supposed to be making me your bitch, not the other way around, Phillip."

"Christopher Keith Irvine, I will choke you."

"Okay, okay."

* * *

Chris sinks his mouth onto Phil's erection, cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard. Phil's eyes roll back slightly, propping himself up on his elbow's to watch his older lover.

The blond Canadian looks up into Phil's eyes, seeing his stomach muscles clench slightly in his peripheral vision. He runs his hands soothingly along the younger man's thighs, massaging away the tension of the night as he bobs his head slowly, ensuring that no part remains untouched. He lightly drags his teeth over the head, drawing a hiss. Phil's head falls back as his hips begin to rock softly, and Chris knows that he has to stop or it's all over.

Suddenly, the blond finds himself on his back, Phil desperately pulling his shirt over his head. Within another moment, his shorts and underwear are gone and Phil's mouth is firmly wrapped around Chris's hardness. His head falls back against the pillows.

The warn wetness is heaven. Phil moves surely, slipping his fingers inside his mouth along with Chris's erection. He makes sure each digit is thoroughly wet before rubbing them against Chris's clenching entrance.

* * *

"Oh, God, Phil – _please_."

"Told you I'd make you my bitch."

* * *

Phil slips his fingers into Chris's entrance, feeling only slight resistance. He thrusts them in time with the movements of his mouth and, within a moment, Chris's fingers are knotted in the younger man's hair.

The blond's choked noises are music to Phil's ears, stroking his ego languidly. He can almost imagine his inner narcissist purring in contentment as Phil's name spills from Chris's swollen lips repeatedly. He slips in a third finger, scissoring them slowly while the older man's noises increase, his hips shallowly thrusting into Phil's mouth.

After a few minutes of delicious torture, Phil takes pity and pulls off, moving to position himself at Chris's prepared entrance. The blond wriggles in order to push Phil insides, growling when the younger man merely rubs the head of his erection against the ring of willing muscle.

* * *

"What's the magic word, Chrissy?"

"Shut up and fuck me, you prick."

"Close, but no."

"Phil…"

"Oh, yeah, baby – say my name."

"_Phil_."

"Come on. Say it. You know I won't move until you do."

"Fine! Fuck me – Phil, _you_ are the best in the world. Now, get on with it!"

"As you wish."

* * *

Both men let out long, deep moans as Phil slides home in Chris's body. It hasn't been more than twelve hours since they'd last been in this position - albeit reversed – yet Phil feels like it's been years. It takes all of his restraint to hold still while his lover adjusts.

Chris moans yet again as the younger man begins to move faster. Phil keeps his pace hard but even, knowing it will be Chris's undoing. The blond is humming softly, but not in the way Phil wants. Angling his hips slightly, the tattooed man knows he's hit his mark when the older man groans and arches his back. He grins as the blond curses, the older man's body trembling under the repeated nudges. Tired of the teasing, Phil speeds up his movements. The lewd noise of skin slapping against skin begins to echo throughout the hotel room, and the younger man briefly feels sorry for John Cena and Randy Orton, who are rooming next door – though the thought disappears as quickly as it comes. Phil looks down at Chris, whose body is bowed and shaking. By this point, the moans are continuously flowing from the older man's kiss swollen mouth.

Phil leans down to capture those plump lips as Chris's orgasm washes over him, splattering between them. The feeling of his fluttering walls pulls Phil over the edge as well. After the moment of pure bliss, the younger man pulls himself out and slumps against Chris's chest, burrowing his head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He breathes deeply and smiles as he feels Chris's fingers running through his hair.

* * *

"Those walls of Jericho are so much nicer."

"Jesus Christ, you're so perverted."

"You love me, _Chrissy_."

"Not when you call me that."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Just an idea that popped into my head while watching Punk's 'Best in the World' documentary – Punk vs. Jericho at Wrestlemania XXVIII is on disc 3. And, of course, my inner slasher came out to play. :)


End file.
